Copyright 2013 by Theo Fenraven
This story contains material suitable only for adults.
I went for my backpack, erection bobbing, to fetch the collapsible tripod. Usually, my hands were steady as a rock on a camera, but Will had completely destroyed my professional composure. Not that I minded. I hadn’t been this turned on since… Well, I couldn’t remember when the last time was.
I set up the tripod a lot less capably than usual, but eventually got it stabilized and the camera attached. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”
I watched through the lens as he touched himself. It was like I wasn’t there, and on the other hand, totally there. He was both unaware of me, and aware. He stroked his chest, teased his nipples, played with his chest hair, ran his fingers up the insides of his thighs, trailed his hand across his stomach so I could see the muscles flutter in response, and then laid his left hand on his cock, fingers splayed, and stroked gently.
And yeah, he was hard. Very hard. And it was an amazing sight. I wanted to drop to my knees and worship him as he so deserved. Instead, I stayed at my post, behind the tripod, and captured the entire performance digitally.
My breathing was out of control, but that was okay, so was his. He was really into it, and I thought, Is he going to come? Christ… come? Please let him come….
He gave me a look, mouth open as he panted. “Still want?”
I looked at him over the camera. “Fuck, yeah.”
He laughed, and I kept working the camera as he got down to it. It eventually occurred to me: what kind of idiot was I, taking pictures while Will Crawford was jacking off?
I finally came to my senses, and I stopped and started working myself instead. It was strange, watching this through the camera lens. His hand was moving faster and faster, and mine was mimicking his movements, and when he came, so did I, and we were ten feet apart when it happened.
Will motherfucking Crawford, Mr. GQ. I thought I’d die, but then I decided I’d better not, because I didn’t want to miss what would happen next.
He lay against the wall, totally lax, head back, eyes shut, trying to get enough air into his lungs. There was semen all over his stomach and as high as his chest. I sank to my knees on the straw-covered floor, shivering.
“That was… that was….” Words failed me.
“Yeah….” he said on a long sigh. “It was.”
I looked at him, he looked at me, and then he got off his hay bale and came over to where I knelt on the floor. Pulling me to my feet, he kissed me, and oh what a kiss—sweet, tender, full of longing, all of it, all at once. I collapsed against him.
“What’s next?” he asked, and I laughed weakly, glad I hadn’t died before because the day wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot.